A Night in Hillsbard
by Da Putts
Summary: One shot: A murdered Forsaken, a vengeful troll, and an unsuspecting village, altogether they make for one very interesting night.


This is just my take on one of my more favorite quests in World of Warcraft. I've taken several creative liberties with it but I'm sure that those who have played the game will be able to recognize it. All characters and places belong to Blizzard except for those I have created.

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Angry clouds hung over the land of Hillsbrad. The rain came pouring down in sheets and lightning frequently flashed across the sky. Atop Darrow Hill, overlooking the small village in Hillsbrad Fields, a troll gazed down upon the village. He was covered in a heavy cloak to help protect from the pounding storm. Clutched in his right hand was a rolled up piece of parchment. When the troll finally pulled his heated gaze away from the village, he unraveled the parchment once more and read through it again. 

'Citizen Wilkes. Wanted for the murder of Deathstalker Fry. Last seen in Hillsbrad Field.' After re-reading the small passage describing the man's appearance, the troll rolled up the parchment. Tucking it securely into his belt, he heaved a sigh. '_Calm down Kevas, ya can do dis mon. It just be a pink-skin._' Despite his mental reassuring, Kevas still had doubts about this. He had met and even befriended Fry during his last visit to Tarren Mill, not a small feat considering the distrust troll's held for their undead allies. The two had worked together on several occasions and Kevas had gotten a good feel for the Forsaken's abilities. For a human to have killed him without so much as being mortally wounded or crippled for life, Kevas wasn't sure if he'd be skilled enough to beat him. He quickly shoved that thought out of his mind. Not only had one of his comrades been slain, he was being paid a fair amount of money for this job. Failure was not an option. '_For vengeance,_' Kevas thought, '_and maybe sum gold ta line me pockets._' With that in mind, he melded into his surroundings, virtually disappearing, and made his way towards the village.

With the sun already set and the light of the moon blocked by the dense storm clouds, visibility was low, and the pounding rain was anything but helpful. But Kevas didn't want it any other way. The harder it was for these pink-skins to see, the harder it was for him to be caught.

XxXxXxX

After patrolling the outer edge of the village for the third time, Calleb was starting to lose it. He was cold, wet, and miserable. All he wanted was to go home and sit in front of a warm fire. He was a farmer for crying out loud, not a soldier! Plowing fields and planting crops, that's where he belonged, not fighting for his life to protect his village. But ever since the Horde's occupation at Tarren Mill, he had been given a sword and taught how to fight. What he couldn't understand was why the Southshore Guard couldn't come to their aid. Lord knows that there were enough of them to keep both them and Southshore safe.

A bush rustling to his left drew him form his thoughts. Out of instinct, Calleb placed his shield before him and raised his sword. He knew it was probably nothing more than a rabbit seeking shelter from the storm, as no one in their right mind would be out in weather like this. Well, except all the other poor bastards who had guard duty this night. Inching closer to the bush, Calleb thrust into it with his sword. Just as he expected, a terrified rabbit shot out from underneath the bush, seeking shelter somewhere a little less hazardous to its health. However, what he didn't except was the powerful, green hand that seized him by the throat and hauled him into the nearby tree. All Calleb could do was yelp in surprise before being silenced forever. It was enough, though, to draw the attention a passing guard.

"Calleb?" he shouted, searching the nearby area for the fretful militiaman. Calleb had never been the swiftest being on two feet, and he planned to find Calleb sitting on the ground clutching a twisted ankle or the like. Needless to say, he was more than surprised when he saw Calleb's lifeless body topple out of the treetops.

The guard's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. He turned to flee but collided with something solid, knocking him to the ground. When he tried to rise to his feet, he was pinned to the ground by a two-toed foot. The guard now found himself face-to-face with a troll, completely clad in leather armor and brandishing a dagger that looked more like a serrated dragon's fang than an actual dagger. His green hair was matted to his face from the rain, hiding his burning red eyes from view, but the vicious smile stretching across his face was clearly visible. The guard was paralyzed with fear and didn't even scream when the troll plunged his dagger into the guard's chest.

Once Kevas had dragged the bodies a safe distance away from the village, he crept back. He was sure that, before he left, he was going to cause a suitable amount of panic throughout the village, but the longer they were unaware of the eight foot troll carving a bloody path through the townsfolk the better. If he was going to do this, he had to kill Wilkes before they realized he was here. Problem was he had no idea where the bastard was hiding. He had been around the village three or four times already. If only he could read those pink-skin's damnable signs.

With no clue where to find his target and with the storm growing worse, Kevas thought it best to turn back, hoping to find Wilkes another day and that someone else wouldn't get to him first. It was then, out of a sheer stroke of luck, that Kevas found him. Lightning tore across the sky, briefly illuminating the village. In that small amount of time, Kevas caught a brief glimpse of his prey in one of the nearby houses. Wilkes stared out the window, unaware of the invisible assassin staring back at him. Kevas let a wicked grin spread across his face. That grin quickly left when he noticed just how many pink-skins were guarding the way in.

The front door was a no go. Two guards were stationed on either side of the door, keeping a vigilant eye for anything out of the ordinary. Kevas wasn't sure if he could pick the lock and sneak inside without drawing their attention. Fighting them wasn't an option, unless he actually wanted to alert every nearby guard that he was here. Moving around the sides of the house didn't bring him any luck, one side having no way in and the other having a guard posted in front of the only window. The back was just as bad, if not worse than the front. Another pair of guards stood watch over the cellar doors, which were held shut by a wicked looking deadbolt lock. Kevas was sure he would have been able to open them if he had brought some of his brother's explosives.

With no way of sneaking inside, and fighting them out of the question, Kevas only had one option left: distraction. Reaching into his cloak, the troll retrieved a small, wooden box. He whimpered as he opened the box and fished around inside, pulling out what looked like a mechanical squirrel of some kind. His little brother had given it to him for good luck, or that's what he said at least. The real reason why he gave it to him was he liked seeing his elder brother squirm every time he saw one of the bushytailed vermin.

After flipping a switch located on its belly, Kevas hastily tossed it towards the guards. It landed atop the cellar door with a dull thud, drawing the attention of both guards. As they leaned down inspect the metal monstrosity, it suddenly sprang to life, leaping onto the face of the closest guard and latching on. The guard screamed in surprised horror as he desperately tried to tear the mechanical fiend form his face, but no matter what, it still held fast. His partner looked on in confused amazement, as if he wasn't quite sure if this was really happening. Sure enough, the guard's horrified screams soon drew the attention of the other guards. At first, they weren't sure what to make of the situation, but soon enough they came up with an idea. One of the guards held the poor man down while another went about kicking him in the face in hopes of knocking the beast off. In the shadows, Kevas was trembling with barely restrained laughter and a little bit of fear. As much as he wanted to stay and watch the absurd scene play out, he had work to do. Creeping back to the front door, Kevas skillfully picked the locked and snuck inside.

The room was dimly lit, its only source of light being a small lantern sitting on a table. Inside, Kevas found another set of guards. Obviously confused from the commotion outside, but unwilling to leave their posts. Two were sitting at the table and had been playing a game of cards while another stood guard at the foot of the stairs. Kevas swore to himself. He would have to deal with these three; there was no way around it. Moving as silently and swiftly as he could, Kevas crept behind one of the guards at the table and emerged from the shadows. In what looked like one swift motion, Kevas snapped the guard's neck then flicked his wrist, flinging a hidden throwing knife into the other's throat, silencing him forever.

The remaining guard was quick to react, but Kevas was just a little quicker. Readying his sword, the guard charged, swinging his sword down at the troll's head. Kevas spun behind the guard, easily avoiding the attack. Roughly seizing the guard's sword arm, Kevas violently twisted it behind him. There was an audible crack and the guard hissed in pain, dropping his sword. A wicked grin spread across Kevas' face. Drawing his dagger, Kevas drove it deep into the guard's back. He shuddered, then fell limp. Gently, the guard was laid to the floor. Kevas thanked his lucky stars that no one heard the scuffle, most especially Wilkes.

Returning to the shadows and out of sight, the troll crept up the stairs towards his objective. Finding his way wasn't difficult, it being the only one with light shining from under the door. Kevas stopped and swallowed the lump in his throat, hoping that the door's hinges were well oiled. Slowly pushing the door open and once again thanking his luck, the troll crept inside.

This room was far better lit than the last. A hanging chandelier kept the room brightly lit. Wilkes was seated in a chair by his bed, peacefully reading a book. How this gray haired, balding, gaudy dressed man managed to outmatch and kill Fry was beyond Kevas. Gripping his dagger tightly, Kevas moved toward his mark, anticipating the moment when he'd drive his dagger into Wilkes' chest. Without warning Wilkes sprang forward from his chair, his fist connecting with Kevas' jaw knocking him from his stealth and into the wall.

Kevas sat against the wall. His world was spinning, his jaw throbbing, and he was completely taken aback how easily this man saw through his stealth. A triumphant grin stretched across the pink-skin's face and he began taunting the dazed troll. Kevas couldn't understand a word he was saying, but it sounded arrogant and pompous and that was enough to get him riled up.

Rising to his feet, Kevas snarled and drew another dagger. This one was nearly as long as the first but was deflected at a slight angle. Wilkes looked at the battle ready troll and laughed. Then, in one quick motion, he tore his shirt from his chest. Kevas' face went white. While the man had to be well into his fifties, his muscles were larger than those of most orcs Kevas had met. Kevas' body was lean, made for stealth and speed with a blade. There was no possible way he would be able to match strength with this man.

Wilkes struck again, and Kevas barely managed to avoid his fist, which struck the wall behind him with enough force to cause it to splinter and crack. Kevas had no time to gawk in amazement. His attack had left Wilkes wide open to Kevas' thirsty blades. Kevas thrust his daggers forward, aiming for the Wilkes' side. With more speed than any man his age should have, Wilkes leapt back completely avoiding the attack. Before he had anytime to make a counterattack, Kevas was on him again. He swung one of his daggers towards the man's throat, aiming for a quick kill. Kevas had no such luck again this time, as Wilkes bent backwards at a near ninety-degree angle, letting the deadly blade pass over him harmlessly. With a small smirk, Wilkes placed his palms on the floor and, digging his fingertips into the floorboards, shot upwards into a perfect handstand. Needless to say, in doing so, his feet flew upwards with him, striking Kevas painfully in the jaw.

Kevas was sent tumbling across the room, his daggers flying out of his hands. Wilkes walked over triumphantly to the dazed troll, lifting him back to his feet by his hair. Again he said something that Kevas couldn't understand, then drove his fist into the troll's chest with enough force to squash a gnome's head. Pain exploded through Kevas' chest as the air left his lungs. He crumpled onto the floor, clutching his sides and fairly certain that the man had just broke a couple of his ribs. Wilkes' grin grew larger and there was a glimmer in his eye as he hauled the beaten troll back up to his feet. His grin quickly left his face, however, when Kevas spat a rather large wad of spit into his face. Snarling, Wilkes began pummeling Kevas with a flurry of punches, his rage fueling every punch. When the brutal assault ended, Wilkes seized the troll by the throat and flung him across the room with relatively no effort. Kevas crashed hard against the wall, crumbling to floor next to the chair Wilkes had just been sitting in.

The troll was in a bad way. His right eye had swollen shut completely, blood was dribbling out from his mouth (in fact he was quite certain he had swallowed a couple of his teeth), and his left arm felt like it had snapped in two after being slammed into the wall. Despite the pain racking his body, he forced himself to stand. Wilkes slowly approached, murder gleaming in his eyes. Kevas' searched the room for his daggers, but found them too far away to be any use. Slowly his eyes drifted down to the chair beside him, a desperate plan beginning to form within his mind. Kevas swallowed, _'Well, here goes everyting.' _Grabbing the chair, Kevas sprang forward swinging it with all the strength he had left. The troll's assault took Wilkes completely by surprise. The chair smashed against him, splintering into pieces and knocking him senseless. Seizing the opportunity, Kevas went in for the kill. Slipping the last of his hidden throwing knives into his hand, he charged. The dazed Wilkes lashed out with his fist but Kevas, even beaten as he was, easily dodged the clumsy attack. Thrusting the small knife forward, it bit deep into the man's throat.

Wilkes' eyes widened in horror. Slowly he reached towards the gushing wound, pulling the offending blade from his neck. Kevas watched with a smug satisfaction as he the dying man grasped at his throat, desperately trying to keep his blood from pouring out. Although he was perfectly happy standing there, watching the man bleed to death, the troll knew he had to get out of there quickly. Reaching into one of the small pouches that hung from his belt, he pulled out a small vial full of a murky red liquid. Pulling the cork off, he drank it quickly and began feeling the effects immediately. The swelling around his eye receded until it was gone completely and the pain in his chest was reduced to a dull ache. He could even move his left arm again without it erupting into pain. After retrieving his favored daggers, he brought his attention back to Wilkes. The man was now on his knees, using one arm to support himself while the other clutched his throat. Kevas moved behind him and grabbed him by what little hair he had left. The troll sighed _'I hate dis part.'_ Unsheathing one of his daggers and raising it high, Kevas swung it. His dagger sliced through the man's neck, serving it from his shoulders'. Kevas gazed at the decapitated corpse and the head he held in his hand and grimaced. _'Don't tink I'll evar understand why anyone be wantin' a decapitated head.' _

With his mark's head in hand, Kevas sheathed his dagger once again and made his way to the window. Throwing it open, he leapt outside, landing gracefully on the soggy ground below. Outside, the storm was still raging. _'Guess dat be why no one heard da fight,' _Kevas pondered. Gripping Wilkes' head tightly, Kevas sprinted in the direction of Tarren Mill, no longer caring if he were seen. There were few in Azeroth that could match his speed on foot. When he had reached a safe distance, the troll slowed to a jog. When Kevas thought of how shocked and horrified the pink-skins would be once they found the lifeless bodies of the militiamen and Wilkes' headless body, a devilish grin stretched across his face.

XxXxXxX

It was early in the morning when Kevas arrived back at Tarren Mill. The sun had just started to peak over the horizon. Little had been said between Kevas and High Executor Darthalia, the Forsaken who had tasked him with slaying Wilkes. There was a nod of acknowledgement between the two before Kevas was rewarded for turning in Wilkes' head. Though, Kevas was more than happy not to say anything. With Fry dead (…again), there were none in Tarren Mill that he was on friendly terms with. He purchased a flight to the Undercity, hoping a zeppelin would already be docked once he got there and he could get back to Orgrimmar as soon as possible. _'Tank I'll stop by da inn and get smashed once I get back home, mebbe even make some lonely babe's day,' _Kevas thought, giving the pouch of coins tied to his belt a loving glance. With that in mind, Kevas relaxed and let the cool, morning wind wash over him as he soared over the ground below.


End file.
